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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Passions Playpen part 1 of 14 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
PASSION’S PLAYPEN
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter One
She sensed it within him. A restlessness, a kind of
animalistic hunger. They had met only recently. They were new lovers.
And yet she sensed that somehow they were not. He had known other
girls. And now he knew her. And there was something in her that
sparked him to do more with her than he had done with any of the
others. Did he wish to use her?
All lovers use each other in some fundamental way. They meet,
they chat, and then they love. But she felt he was bored with such
superficial passings. This girl today, or that tommorrow. And although
she herself had not had many lovers, and was much younger than he (at
least she felt she was) she yearned too for something more. But not, it
would seem, the simplicities of life that an older female might wish
for. She was still quite young and spirited, in her own shy way. She
wished to be loved as deeply and as thoroughly as any human being could
be.
She listened as the horses drew their carriage down the gas-lit
street. Turning her head to look at this quaint attempt at urban
renewal, her breath slightly fogged the carriage’s glass window. There
was a flurry of snow outside; premature for this early in the autumn.
He put his arm around her. She drew away, a little
frightened. Of herself, really, for he would never hurt her.
Unless.... she let the word hang within her mind. Unless she asked for
it. But not directly. No. Directly would be too gauche. But she
remembered the pain of losing her hymen and knew she had wanted to be
hurt that night, when she was 13 and the moon was full and her lover was
brimming with passion.
Now, with another lover, much older and suave in his movements,
she sensed again the possibility of pain. This lover had all the social
graces, yet he wished to use her as no man dared. As a...
“Do you wish for me to be?” And again her voice broke, this
time audibly, not just in her mind. She tried to give a little cough to
cover her nervousness.
“Do I what?” he asked politely. He straightened a lock of her
hair that had fallen crossways into her eyes. He tugged at the collar
of her blouse. She had not brought her fur and she was cold and the
coldness forced her to find warmth and solace in the arms of her lover.
“A slave.”
There. She had said it. She had not meant to say it but she
had. She felt him adjust himself, as if a sudden growth within him had
made him uncomfortable. And she realized he was not as old as she
fancied. She could feel a kind of youthful exuberance shiver through
him, like on the night when she was 13 and her lover had stripped her
panties down to expose her sex and pierce it.
For the first time.
“I...” Now it was her lover who coughed.
“Possess yourself,” she thought, gritting her front teeth a
little. “I am putting myself into your hands.”
“Yes. I want you to be a slave.”
“A slave.” She felt the same excitement shoot up her spine
that had just possessed him moments ago. Not ‘his’ slave, but ‘a’
slave. That was quite different. ‘A’ slave could be used by anyone,
and was the center of attention for all whom she served. That was not
the simple, passionate slavery of a girl alone in a cabin with her
lover. That was... Well, what was it? That was the girl as complete
subservient, obeying all, but loved by all too, in a physical way.
Could she stand such love? Would it be too much for her? She
did not wish to think of it. She put it out of her mind with all her
effort. Yet she sank a little more deeply into her lover’s arms.
Because it was cold, she told herself.
He unbuttoned the top button of her collared blouse. “I can
have the driver take us there if you wish,” he murmured. He was all
suaveness and self-possession again. She liked that.
“Where?” she asked. She looked at him with big innocent
child’s eyes, for she was a child, really, she told herself. Barely 19
and just a college sophomore. He was 35, not young at all, nor did she
wish for him to be. And yet again she felt him twist a little in his
seat and she watched as he moved his legs, trying to relieve himself of
a sudden stiffness. Where he was taking her, he had not been there
before either.
“A place where I’d like to keep you for awhile,” he said
softly. He looked at her with his deep sky-blue eyes and she felt small
in his arms. He brushed her cheeks with his lips and she drew away
again, but his arms were completely around her now and there was noplace
for her to go.
“You’d like me to stay there?” she asked.
“Yes. I’d like to keep you there,” he said.
“But--” she did not cough this time. She merely spoke the word
and let it hang. He unbuttoned the second button on her blouse.
“You are on break from school,” he said.
“Only for three days,” she replied. “Because of the
renovations.”
“But you could stay away a little longer? Your things are in
your dorm room, nobody will bother them. You are only taking electives
this year...”
“That’s true,” she admitted. She looked down at her knees.
They were bare. She remembered skinning them as a child. She had run
home crying and they had taken two weeks to heal but she’d learned to
skate.
He reached down along her thighs and straightened the hem of
her skirt. He seemed to be on the verge of saying something. She
swallowed. He had picked her up for dinner at eight and now it was
ten. They had both eaten salmon and she felt an easy softness within
her.
“Are you wearing panties tonight?” he asked her. She felt
herself shiver. He knew she always wore panties. She was not like
those girls who went dancing without their panties on. Her legs were
fine and firm and flawless and she was barelegged, without hose, but she
of course wore panties. And a bra, beneath her prim blouse with her
collar and her buttons, two of which he’d now undone. Her skirt was
black leather and she wore a seductive little black leather vest, and
black pumps, and a black ribbon which held her hair in a loose ponytail,
but she still nonetheless wore her panties. They were white. They
might have been slinky black or red but on this night, dressing, she
thought she’d prefer white, perhaps as an antidote to his intentions.
“Of course I’m wearing panties,” she replied softly.
“Take them off,” he said.
This time when she tried to draw away there was not even any
room in his arms, and she found she could not pull even a little bit
away, though she tried.
“Take them off,” he said again.
“But?” she let the question hang lightly in the air. It was a
butterfly. He had the net.
“The seat is spotless. Take them off and give them to me. I
will need to give them something when we arrive to show your consent.”
He drew back to give her room, but only so that she could take off her
panties.
She reached behind herself. She unzipped her skirt. It was
too tight for her to reach inside of. She had purposely bought a skirt
that moulded her ass and clung to the tops of her thighs. And then,
she’d bought the finest, silkiest panties she could, for she still
wished to wear panties despite the snugness of her skirt. They were
opaque panties though, to keep her from being seen should she somehow
find herself without her skirt on.
And yet now, obeying him, with the snow falling outside and the
air quite chilly inside the coach, she unzipped her skirt. She felt her
girlish bottom push through the unzipped halves of her skirt, like a
balloon seeking freedom. She unzipped her skirt right down to the end,
watching all the while, nervously, the driver of the coach in his
rearview mirror. He had the courtesy not to look back on the lovers, on
her.
“Now the panties,” her lover told her. She felt her panties
against her bottom, protecting it from the coach’s smooth vinyl seat.
She adjusted her skirt on her thighs so that it lay over them, unzipped
but still shielding her from the coachman’s eyes.
She raised her bottom a little and tugged down the back of her
panties.
“Where are we going?” she asked her lover, looking up at him,
as she felt the nakedness of her bold bare bottom make contact with the
vinyl of the seat. It was chilly and slick, for they had only entered
the carriage a little while ago and her bottom had not had time to warm
it. Her lover seemed to enjoy the look on her face as she felt the
coolness of the vinyl touch her bare ass.
She drew her panties down her thighs. She had to yank them
down carefully lest she displace her skirt and send it to the floor.
That would have left her bare, with just her blouse on, showing her bush
to the driver. Her lover, gallantly, saw her predicament and caught a
corner of her unzipped skirt in his hand to keep it in place.
“All the way off,” he said. She leaned forward and felt her
breasts fall broodingly forward into her blouse. Her bra was light and
sheer and held her only tangentially. She had full uplifted bosoms that
needed no support. She liked to feel them move when she danced but she
could not bring herself to not wear any bra. So she chose just the very
lightest ones, sheer, lace trimmed, but without any underwiring or
elastic. They were to preserve her modesty. They did nothing to keep
her from having a bouncy demeanor.
Drawing her panties down as he wished, she felt her hair fall
forward down and around her face, and finally into her eyes. It was
blonde and it smelled fresh and clean and she wondered if it would still
be so perfect in a few hours. Carefully she drew her white panties over
her black polished heels and, taking them up from her feet, she handed
them, with a quick glance at the driver, to him. Instead of putting
them immediately in his pocket he put them to his nose and deeply
inhaled their scent. She felt apprehensive watching, for she knew if
the driver turned his head just the slightest amount he would see all.
Not sure, quite, whether he did or not, seeing his head twitch a little
beneath his peaked cap, she then watched as her lover put the panties
out of sight of the driver into his pocket. He tugged on the end of
them a little and, in the front pocket of his coat, they resembled a
handkerchief. A bit of lace trim, though, she thought, betrayed their
real identity. But he seemed to wish for them to be seen, even if their
real nature were known, and she knew in this matter she could not
correct him.
He reached over to her. He did not embrace her as before but
he simply touched her blouse and began pulling open her buttons.
Sitting bare-bottomed on the seat, still wishing that the driver might
remain unawares, more concerned really for her modesty in front of the
driver than in her lover’s liberties with her person, like a nymph
worrying over her dropped flowers as a satyr carries her off, she
innocently let her lover undo her blouse. He did not open all the
buttons. He merely wanted access within.
She looked down, feeling a little fearful, and watched as her
lover’s big brawny hand dipped within her white blouse and seized the
portion of her bra that hung suspended between her breasts. He pulled,
hard. She felt the clasp at her back scream and she felt her whole bra
get yanked into her back, the straps and the crosswise portion, as her
lover pulled hard at her bra in front.
And then the clasp gave way. Her lover’s hand sprang out of
her blouse, carrying the torn remnants of her bra, its clasp broken, and
he pulled again to break the straps which still clung round her
shoulders. For a moment she thought she might be pulled into the front
seat, or at least against the glass partition that separated them from
the driver. But then her straps, perhaps sensing her own wish to
surrender, broke free of her and allowed her bosoms to be rendered
naked.
Wordlessly her lover took her bra and balled it up and bade her
open her mouth. She did, and he put the bra into her mouth and then, as
she stared at him open mouthed, her tongue tasting her underwear, he
closed her mouth for her. A bit of lace loop from her torn
shoulderstrap remained hanging out of her closed lips. He nudged it and
parted her lips and pushed it within. Then he closed her mouth again.
She could not speak. Her mouth was full of her bra. Quietly
he buttoned her blouse back up so that no one could see what had
happened to her. She still wore her black vest. He straightened her
skirt and told her to zip herself back into it. She complied. It was
harder to zip the skirt up than it had been to zip it down but she got
it back up and was finally sitting neatly beside him again, her hands on
her lap as if nothing had happened.
Her lover knocked on the glass. The driver turned slightly.
Her lover slid open the glass partition and passed a note to the
driver. Then he closed it again, as the driver unfolded the note and
looked at it. He paused. Then he nodded. He cracked his whip and the
speed of the horses increased. She felt the carriage rock back as the
horses drew it abruptly faster. Her lover touched her skirt and
straightened it, as before, on her thighs.
“I’m going to handcuff you,” he lover said to her. She started
at his remark, as if she were a horse and he had hit her. He drew a
shiny steel pair of handcuffs from inside his coat. She wanted to tell
him that she didn’t need handcuffs but when she tried to speak her bra
choked her words and she found herself mumbling. For the sake of
appearing graceful she let her words die. He drew her slim white arms
behind her and held her wrists together and he locked the cuffs
securely.
He kissed her. She thought it was a kiss of love but in a
minute she realized it had only been his way of asking further
permission. He drew out another pair of handcuffs. She blanched. She
was frail and small and had skinny legs and slim, almost bony arms. She
was just a wee bit short to be a model and, except for her breasts,
which ballooned out in front of her almost embarassingly (and quite
uselessly in a struggle), she was feather light. He was large and his
arms might have been butcher’s arms, except they were too well muscled
from years of weightlifting to be mistaken for that of a manual
laborer. Nonetheless with his second pair of handcuffs he drew her
elbows together and locked her arms securely, just above each elbow so
that her breasts were thrown out in sharp relief from the rest of her
body and she felt like some obscene pinup.
She breathed and she felt her breasts move in her blouse. Her
lover was more exacting than she’d supposed. What had she wished for?
She could not tell now, her thoughts were too confused and she felt a
moisture between her naked thighs that had not been there a moment
before. She looked at her lover but he just kissed her again and then
looked away, checking his watch and gazing at the tree-lined road out
ahead of them as they plunged in their little carriage into the gloom.
In a little while, after she’d had time to contemplate all that
had happened to her and how he’d made the handcuffs on her wrists
tighter than they needed to be, as if to test her, hurting her a little,
the coach drew up in front of a townhouse. It was flanked by tall
slender trees that seemed slightly overwhelmed with the snow. Their
branches, which would be nude in winter but which still had leaves
clinging to them, seemed weighed down by the newfallen snow.
The coachman came back and opened the door of the coach. Kate,
for that was what everyone called her, short for Katherine, was wrapped
in her lover’s coat to keep her warm. She could feel her wrists
sticking out from the underside of her lover’s coat and she hoped, as
she got down from the coach, that the coachman couldn’t see the gleam of
metal shackling her wrists. She seemed especially stiff in her
movements and he reached to grab her arm for her but her lover, knowing
the true condition of her arms, brushed his hand aside.
She almost slipped on the snow covered pavement. Her heels
were spiked and she would have had no protection if she had fallen. Her
lover reached out and saved her, catching her, balancing her. She
walked with his arm around her up the walk to the front door of the
townhouse and she did not look back at the coachman. Her thoughts were
so focused on the door of the building that she barely noticed the
retreating footfalls of the horses as they departed.
Her lover rang the front doorbell for her. She stood in the
cold, shivering, barelegged, the wind somehow finding her bottom beneath
her skirt and her lover’s coat and chilling her naked seat. They had to
wait a little while and she saw lights come on in the front of the
house.
The door opened. It was a woman. Kate had never seen the
woman before but she smiled at once and drew Kate inside. Her lover
followed.
“She is lovely. Is this the one you spoke to me of?” the woman
asked Kate’s lover. He nodded. He adjusted his stance and Kate guessed
his wordlessness was due in part to a rising discomfort in his pants,
and a sense of excitement. There was a youthfulness in his bearing as
he stood behind her, despite his age.
Kate looked up at the woman. She was a foot taller than Kate
and could easily have been a model, although Kate sensed she was too old
to start now if she had not started already. She had a bouiffont hairdo
and impeccable makeup. She wore a black evening gown that seemed to
hang from her shoulders like water, sheeting down in front of her, all
glossy and sparkling. It had slim shoulder straps and dipped daringly
low in front. Within the gown her bosoms showed themselves quite
freely. Kate realized that, like herself, the woman probably had too
large a bust to ever succeed as a model. The woman’s hips were slim and
she showed few signs of age, though Kate knew she must have been at
least 30. There was an uncompromising look in the woman’s eyes and Kate
remembered a teacher she’d once had, a teacher who’d always made her do
her homework and had accepted no excuses and permitted her no
exceptions. Kate had worked hard but had learned a lot from that
teacher, and although she sometimes hated her at the time, later on in
looking back on her she’d come to admire her and find that she
considered her one of her favorite teachers.
Her lover, whose name was Mark but who seemed suddenly less
important in her life, drew away his coat, leaving Kate standing quite
obviously handcuffed before the woman in the delicate evening gown with
the slightly artificial smile and the eyes that seemed to pierce right
into her.
“May I keep these?” Mark asked.
The woman, who seemed not really to acknowledge Kate as a
person but rather to evaluate her, as one might a horse or a piece of
meat in a shop, looked past Kate at her lover.
“Her panties?” the woman laughed. “Of course. I can see that
she’s ready.” The woman took Kate by the arm, tugging on it as if it
weren’t bound tightly behind her and making Kate wince. She walked Kate
quickly across the living room and although Kate was quite surprised and
frightened by it all, her legs moving fast to keep up with the woman,
who dragged her along beside her, the pumps of both their feet clacking
quite noticeably on the hardwood floor, Kate saw that the room was
decorated quite nicely. It had all the touches a woman might want,
flowing drapes and patterned couches and chairs, with flowers in a vase
and, along one wall, a shelf with knick-knacks competing with each other
for their owner’s attention.
Beyond the shelf full of wooden, painted knick-knacks they
went, the dolls and the dish with the scene painted into its face, into
another room where, to Kate’s heartsinking surprise, they met other
guests, some dressed like the woman and some, younger and more casual,
dressed for dancing and partying like Kate was.
“This is Kate,” the woman said to the guests. Kate felt their
eyes apprizing her and all she could think was how beautiful they all
were, both the men and the women. They stood round each other sipping
drinks and their conversation, as they looked at Kate, continued ever so
casually, as if it were nothing to see a young woman handcuffed and
gagged with her own underwear.
The woman, whose name Kate only learned later was named Maria,
turned Kate to face her. The woman, even in grabbing her, had a kind,
soft, gentle touch, only her extra-long fingernails digging a little
into Kate’s skin. Yet within the gentleness, perhaps imbuing it with
the stregth which Kate felt impelling her as she stood and was handled
by the woman, was a need to dominate and possess her. It was similar to
the need she felt in her lover and he stood behind her, almost guarding
her, as Maria began unbuttoning the buttons on Kate’s blouse.
Kate tried to draw back but her lover caught her and held her
by both her arms. Maria smiled and continued unbuttoning. “You will
not have any privacy here, dear,” she said simply. “You must get used
to it.”
Kate’s blouse gave way to the pressure of her large bosoms and,
looking down and watching, she saw them spill out into the open view of
everyone in the room. Her little vest was too small and fashionable to
hide them in any way, and it had no buttons, for that was the style at
the moment.
“Oh, they are beautiful! Look at these bosoms!” Maria
declared. She turned Kate so that everyone in the room could see her
breasts. They were white and had lovely pink nipples whose stems had
already risen in the carriage, when Kate was forced to remove her
panties. The guests, there were not more than half a dozen of them,
drew close and one woman, lifting a finger and lightly brushing Kate’s
erect nipple, said, “How lovely it would be to clamp them.”
“Oh, we will do many things with such wonderful breasts as
these!” Maria said. She cupped Kate’s breasts and handled them,
squeezing them and lifting them and weighing them in her palms. Then,
reaching back and inserting her fingers between Kate’s handcuffed wrists
and arms, she found the zipper to Kate’s skirt and she unzipped it
without saying anything, as if Kate were simply a doll to be undressed
as her owner pleased. “Let’s get started right away,” Maria said, not
really speaking at all to Kate but rather to her assembled guests.
Maria got the zipper down most of the way and then, blocked by Kate’s
wrists, she simply yanked Kate’s partly-unzipped skirt down her thighs.
Kate felt her steel-manacled wrists bang against the soft
roundness of her bare bottom. Someone loosened the bow which held her
ponytail and her hair escaped from it and fell freely down around her
shoulders. Kate wanted to cry out but with her bra stuffed in her mouth
she knew how silly she would look, mumbling over her bra, so she held
her lips closed instead and remained quiet. The guest felt her breasts
now as Maria had, and bent round behind Kate to catch a glimpse of her
bottom. A few left her breasts altogether, they found her ass so
gloriously inviting, and went completely round behind her to have a
look.
“Bend forward, Kate. Your hands are in the way and I want to
see you,” Maria told the girl. She pushed Kate’s shoulders down and
Kate felt her blonde hair fall round her face as she was made to stoop,
straight-legged, toward the floor. A few of the women held on to her
breasts, letting her bend forward however, and one pinched her nipple,
making Kate cry out.
Maria lifted Kate’s wrists. She gazed freely at Kate’s round,
bent-over bottom and Kate felt the woman’s fingers prise themselves
between her cheeks. These fingers, which had no doubt just before
Kate’s arrival been nibbling at cheeses and crackers, now dug into
Kate’s anus and tested the tightness of her spincter.
Kate mewled like a cat being forcibly dipped into water.
Maria slapped her bottom. “Be good, Kate. I am only finding
out how tight you are,” Maria said. As Kate stared at her toes, bent
over with Maria’s fingers invading her bottom, her nails scratching her,
though Maria tried to be careful, Kate heard Maria ask her lover: “You
have not taken her in back at all, have you?”
Kate’s lover cleared his throat, as a man does when he must
admit some failing. “No. She would not let me.” He coughed. “I am
much older than she is and I thought...”
“You are a true gentleman. But one can be too much of a
gentleman at times,” Maria told Kate’s lover. “It is no matter.
Sometimes it takes a woman to show a man what is necessary. She is 19?
Good. A child I might allow some liberties but she is old enough for it
and must be trained to take a cock in her bottom, whether she wishes it
or not.”
Kate felt Maria’s fingers withdraw from her hole and the
woman’s free hand, which had been supporting her belly, now smoothed
down between her thighs and clutched quite frankly at her cunny. “She
has never given birth? No abortions? She is not a virgin, is she?”
Kate jerked and yelped. “No,” she heard Maria say, sticking a finger up
her private and feeling around inside. “Good. She is fresh and young
and ready for all life has to offer!”
Maria pulled Kate upright and drew the young woman,
stiff-legged and a little panicky, over to a table with a tray of
crackers and cheese on it. But instead of being offered a cracker, as
she’d hoped, for she was suddenly hungry and not at all interested in
seeing what followed the social hour, Kate saw Maria open a little pill
box and take out a powder blue pill. She picked up a cup of wine, which
a man, reaching gallantly out, filled quickly from a bottle.
“Come, dear, let’s make sure you’ve had your Pill so there are
no complaints afterward,” Maria said to the girl. And, indeed, as Kate
opened her mouth, and Maria, to laughter from the crowd, drew out the
lacy bra, Kate realized she’d forgotten her Pill, either because she
felt she and her lover were not serious enough, or because she wished to
be very serious with her lover, and bear a child for him. As Kate was
given the pill, which she accepted by hesitantly protruding her tonuge,
she could not remember which of the reasons she’d had for not taking her
pill, but it was no matter now for the one she was given was forced down
by a mouthful of wine which Maria poured down her throat.
“Very good,” Maria said. She touched a finger to Kate’s throat
and briefly kissed her lips, as if to reward her for a job well done.
Then she reached back and untied the ribbon that held Kate’s hair in a
pony tail. “You have lovely hair,” Maria complimented the girl. She
fanned it out on her hands and then fluffed Kate’s hair so that Kate
felt like a pretty doll being prepared for a wedding.
Still wearing her blouse, whose tail was fashionably short so
that it didn’t cover an inch of her bottom, with her vest tightly around
her body but hiding nothing, Kate was walked to a corner and faced into
it.
“You must not watch us undress, dear,” Maria said simply.
Behind herself Kate heard a shucking off of clothing. Even as she heard
this she was shocked to hear the doorbell ring, and more guests arrive.
She bit her lip and trembled as, facing the wall, she heard these new
guests welcomed with soft hellos and told to undress. This was so
sinful! Yet, with her hands and arms so tightly bound behind her,
showing off her nude white bottom as if it were a trophy, Kate knew she
could do nothing. She bowed her head in an attempt at modesty. Maybe
they would spare her if she looked properly contrite, she reasoned. And
then she remembered the men. In particular, her boyfriend.
Kate could only imagine what her lover must look like now that
he had a chance to remove his sometimes uncomfortable clothing. She
stood waiting, with her cheeks huddling into her, her hands resting on
their plump surfaces. She could feel the cold steel of the handcuffs
around her wrists pressing hard into the soft whiteness of her bottom.
With cuffs also restraining and binding her elbows, she was made to
stand very straight. She wondered, as she stood there listening to them
undress, tasting the bra that had been stuffed into her mouth, whether
she would experience other feelings upon her bottom this night, and
whether it would be so white in the morning.
A light, almost airy touch on her shoulders. Maria turned Kate
around to face the guests. There were almost twice as many now. For a
moment Kate was startled. The men, who had been so decent and reserved
before, now rudely offered her their bare penises. Several stood with
their hands on their hips and Kate blushed as she saw how trim their
hips were and how trim and sleek and muscled their bodies. In the midst
of each pair of male hips, where the bush lay and where a girl would
have offered nothing, stood up a very stiff pestle of flesh. It made no
bones about its purpose. It throbbed with a life of its own and Kate
was forced to stare at each of the pee holes on each of the men’s
penises.
Was she a toilet? Kate gulped at the thought. What only a
urinal usually saw, a big cockhead with its pee slit presented, she was
now seeing. Staring at, for she couldn’t take her eyes off the sight of
so many male penises clustered around her, showing interest in her, a
girl of only 19 with her hands cuffed so neatly behind her back.
While Kate blushed, the other females, who had shown such an
interest in her earlier, hung back this time, letting the males be
closest to her. The girls nibbled diffidently at aperitifs. One filled
glasses with punch. Kate felt suddenly thirsty and wanted to ask for a
cup of punch but she was afraid she would be given wine again instead,
and forced to get drunk.
Instinctively Kate looked for her lover. But Mark was gone.
Maria noticed her darting eyes and softly stroked her bare shoulder.
“Your lover has been given the girl of his pick and sent
upstairs,” Maria explained. “So that you will be forced to rely on us.
Now you cannot rely on him for guidance or comfort, but only on us.”
A distinct cracking sound came suddenly to all their ears and
they looked up. Leather on bare flesh. It was unmistakable. A female
cry was heard, and a woman with a glass of punch in her hand giggled,
spurting out a little punch from her lips, though she tried to catch it
with her hand. It hit her friend on the breast and since her friend had
undressed she was hit directly by the punch, and it speckled her skin.
The woman who’d lost herself in giggles bent forward and licked up the
punch that decorated her companion’s bare bosom.
“Tch. He is being hard on her,” Maria said, looking up at the
ceiling as another scream broke from above. Maria bared her teeth a
little as she spoke, as if plotting vengeance. Her grip on Kate’s frail
shoulder tightened. Kate felt her bosoms wobble on her chest. She
wanted to shrink and run away before these partygoers. Her eyes were
big in her face and her body was quite waifish and small, except for her
large heavy breasts and her legs which looked very long because they
were so slim. She felt frail and she gasped as a female, stepping up to
a table with a lamp on it, set her drink down on top of the table and
opened its single drawer. Dipping her hand within, the female drew out
a riding crop. It was short and businesslike, with a tough hard
handle. At its tip was an oversized loop, made of leather. Kate
wondered if the big loop was made that way to appeal to the eyes of
children. It reminded her of children’s heads, how they often appeared
larger than their bodies, giving them the look of little bobbing-headed
darlings. Now the crop, with its childish, loopy head, was brought by
the female who’d drawn it out up to Maria. The dark-haired woman, naked
now except for her bouiffont hairdo, accepted the crop. Still holding
Kate, she whisked it briskly through the air. Kate watched wide-eyed as
it whistled past her bosoms, with their fine-tipped points, and past her
tummy which seemed to have sunk within her, showing off her ribs as if
she were an animal about to be broasted and eaten. The men,
uncontrollably hard and breathtakingly long, drew back a little, lest
Maria bobbitize one of their penises with her new toy. Screams
permeated the ceiling above, as a slow cracking of leather worked itself
upon some poor helpless female bottom.
Kate felt she could hardly breathe. Butterflies flew in her
soft, small indrawn tummy. Her legs trembled. She realized she was way
in over her head. No wonder her parents had disapproved of her dating
an older man! No college boy could have gotten her into something this
deep, she reckoned. The wildest frat party was always somewhat silly in
the end, with drunken boys dancing around vomiting puke or challenging
each other to pee on passersby from an upstairs window. This was quite
different. Here, the men seemed not the least drunk, but Kate was
staring at their penises nonetheless, and they seemed much harder than
frat boy’s penises, almost implacable, like policemen enforcing the law.
The law of Nature? No, Kate gasped to herself, for whips and
riding crops and such things were hardly what missionaries would approve
of, despite their accord with the missionary postion. Here was where
people played who were outside the ambit of God, or what He and her
parents approved of. These were not mere boys on a lark. These were
men with real jobs and real responsibilities who’d chosen (yes, chosen!)
to get together and strip naked and play wicked, decadent games. And
the women were no better. By day they might be models, or private
secretaries, or even businesswomen, but now they were stripped of all
but their lovely hairdos and eyeing the crop in Maria’s hand as if it
were something more than just an implement for encouraging horses. Kate
imagined that women like these would, by day, scold men for
complimenting them on their busts (or perhaps even their dresses) but
now they stood with perky nipples waiting and hoping for attention from
men. A few cupped the balls of their lovers encouragingly, from behind,
still softly sipping their drinks as they weighed the hot swimming sperm
sacks that hung so acutely. Fingers drew themselves along the freely
displayed male organs, sizing them up, finding them especially hard and
daunting. The men remained with their eyes fixed on Kate.
“He has my wife upstairs,” the closest male said as a new
scream broke from above. “Let me be the one to punish her.” The man
spoke to Maria. He was the least attractive one present, Kate thought,
with a face like a boxer who’d boxed too long, and a knotted, muscled
body, like someone who works out but does it badly, without the sleek
tall well-formed look that Kate so much admired. His cock, though big,
resembled a sausage more than a cucumber. Everything about him spoke of
meanness, of deprivation and revenge.
Maria fixed her crop between two fingers, balancing it there
with her fingertips free so that she could use her hand for other
purposes, while still holding the crop, holding it like one might hold a
cigarette. She reached up to Kate’s chin and pulled it down.
“I must take out your bra, dear. You might choke on it or
swallow the end of it,” Maria said. She pulled the stringy, lacy fabric
from Kate’s mouth and Kate sighed. But no sooner was her mouth
unplugged than a woman, circling around almost unnoticed, set down her
drink and whipped a gag quickly around Kate’s mouth.
The girl blanched. She drew back but this only put her closer
to the woman and the woman gagged her all the more quickly. Kate found
herself tasting canvas. It was shoved back into her mouth so that she
could not close her lips over it. Her tongue was pushed back by the gag
so that she could not speak at all.
Kate offered her breasts as she was gagged, quite
involuntarily, of course. But Maria tweaked her nipples, playfully,
perhaps to keep her obedient as the woman gagged her and tied the knot
firmly into the back of her head.
When Kate was gagged, the woman who had bound her mouth took a
key and unlocked the handcuffs which bound Kate’s elbows. Kate felt
them spring outward and immediately her posture relaxed a little. Her
arms felt sore from being so tightly constrained. She wanted to rub
them but the woman did not free her wrists. Maria contemplated Kate’s
belly button with her finger.
“You are ready now, my dear,” she said. “Ready to be spanked
hard, to break you down emotionally, and then have penises put into all
your girlish holes. As you can see, the men are quite well fitted out
for your denoument. You might have fucked before, with your boyfriend,
but now you will be really tested.” Maria stroked Kate’s hair, watching
how it fell across her shoulders and hung down to the level of her
boobs. She drew it back so that none of it could obscure her body in
any way. With a sinking heart Kate heard a snipping of scissors and
realized that the insidious woman behind her, who’d put a gag on her,
was now cutting apart her little fashionable vest and her blouse.
Instead of letting her hands be free, and having Kate undress for them,
they simply were ruining Kate’s favorite clothes, cutting them off her,
and Kate wondered frantically what she’d wear when it was time for her
to go home.
“She has a nice slim back,” the woman behind Kate commented.
Kate felt the woman’s hands run up her spine and feel her ribs. Her
vest, shorn from her shoulders, dropped to the floor. Kate felt her
blouse slip quickly away as the scissors separated it from her body.
Kate’s nipples seemed ever more stiff as she felt the scissors do their
work. She prayed that they would rise up and cut her gag off, but that
did not happen.
“Shall I cut her hair?” the woman with the scissors asked
Maria. “It is too long and it hides her back.” Maria, who was playing
with the loop of the crop in Kate’s belly button, poking at it, replied,
“A little. Not too short, but a little.” Kate felt a shivering fear
possess her as the wicked scissors sliced across her back. Even her
hair! She looked down and saw her beautiful mane of hair shortened as
the snips cut by the scissors fell to the floor, sprinkling her
torn-away blouse and her vest. Maria, who’d grown bored with her
smoothe tummy and its little inpoking belly button, let her hand drift
down to Kate’s sex, where her tuft of private hair grew. Maria tugged
at the little curling wisps of hair on Kate’s sex and the girl wondered
if she’d be shorn there next, perhaps by a straight-edged razor, working
quickly and cutting her sex lips as it shaved her clean.
Kate could think of nothing now but escaping and it frightened
her that she had no hope of doing that. Never had she been in a
predicament like this; not when a man had followed her home, not when a
guy had gone too far with her. Here, among these adults, all was soft
and insidiously caring even as Kate felt her hair shortened. Women
refilled punch glasses for each other and the men. Mustard was squirted
on crackers topped by cheese and the little crackers were eaten, the
guests growing bored as they watched Maria tease Kate. The men were as
hard and expectant as ever but they let their girlfriends feed them
crackers and little sausages as they waited for permission to fuck.
Maria controlled all with just a glance. She expected them to wait and,
despite their hardness, they seemed in no hurry, rather enjoying their
erections and the attention it brought them from their wives and
girlfriends. The females squirmed a little, their own need increasing.
They walked with hips that swayed ever more invitingly, and a few rubbed
each others pussies, briefly, to assauge the heat rising within their
wombs. Surely Eden, had it been stocked with more than one man and one
woman, would have looked like this. Fingers prepared crackers and then
fed them, increasingly, not into the mouth that had commanded their
making but into the mouth of another. They fed each other. At Maria’s
insistence they concentrated on feeding not their wives or their
husbands, but others instead, so that the helpful fingers that probed
with crackers into waiting, open mouths fed the mouth of a stranger, not
a familiar lover.
As the guests giggled and enjoyed a naked feast, Maria turned
her attention once again to Kate. The girl jerked as the woman behind
her poked a finger between her ass cheeks and probed her anus.
“Do not expect much comfort at first, although we’ve been nice
to you up ‘til now,” Maria told Kate. “You are not a child. If you
were, and your lover had brought you to me, I might simply spank you
over my knee. A spank, a quick poke of his penis, some loving kisses to
console you, and a lollipop would be all that was required, or wanted.
Just yesterday a darling 10-year-old model was brought, by her lover, a
man she greatly admired and wanted to please. I asked her if she really
wanted to lose her hymen, and she nodded so enthusiastically, not
knowing, perhaps, what it really meant for her, but eager to please all
the same. I gave her her first bare-bottomed spanking. Girls these
days! Can you imagine that they go through a whole decade of life, or
even two, and their fathers never put them over their knees and spank
them? I’m sure girls these days are no gooder than girls in previous
ages. But, anyway, when she was all teary-eyed and I’d hoped that I’d
knocked some sense into her, I asked her again if she really wanted to
lose her virginity. And she nodded, crying now, just as
enthusiastically as she had before, poor dear. So I took her upstairs
and gave her a teddy bear to hug and I pulled her lover’s pants down and
kissed him and told him to do his work. He was a little afraid himself,
I think, not about the Law, you know, for he had dated her and had to
deal with that sort of problem every day, but rather he was afriad for
her. With her white legs spread out on the bed, hugging her teddy and
showing her sex to him, all vulnerable and open as she could be and
ready, he looked at her and was afraid he might hurt her. I assured him
he couldn’t. She would scream a little, and there would be a little
blood, but she was old enough to take him and I pushed him forward so
that he would not leave her waiting too long. I didn’t want her to
recant, now that she’d come this far. But still he wouldn’t fuck her,
though he’d striven mightily to win her and fend off the State. He
started kissing her belly (which might, you know, swell with his seed,
though I did do my best to prevent that) and he said over and over, “My
virgin! My little virgin!”
“Well, I was about ready to whip out a strap-on dildo and fuck
the girl myself, it was taking so long! But finally, with me stroking
his hips and encouraging him and telling him it was O.K., and exciting
him too, he plunged into her.
“And that was it. When she’d been broken open and fucked a
good long time (he had amazing reserve, even in fucking her), I got her
up and tidied her and sent her home. I let her keep the teddy bear.
She went out holding his hand, her hips wriggling happily, and a little
sorely, I would presume. But I was not about to let her do more. You,
on the other hand, my dear, though you might be almost as innocent as
that girl, must be given much more. I intend to keep you here at least
a full week and to open you up in every possible way. You must learn to
fully accept a man. Not just in your cunt, but in your precious
bottom. And your mouth, too, though its gagged now, must be trained to
give the best blowjobs. Believe me, how ever much you’ve practised, I
can teach you more in the art of blowing a man’s penis. It will be a
very intrusive week for you. Do not expect to own or control your body
in any way.”
Kate yelped and bucked her hips forward. The finger probing
her bottom had gone suddenly deeper, and its nail was sharp. The woman
who violated her there, whose name Kate did not even know, whom she had
not even been introduced to, cupped her bottom cheeks and palmed them
apart. She seemed to have a single-minded desire to explore Kate’s ass,
right to the core of her body. Meanwhile, the hands of the guests began
to focus less on each other’s mouths, and to caress and feed (sexually)
the genitals. A cracker, prepared for a mouth, wound up being rubbed
across a penis instead, smearing its mustard topping along its length.
A drink, ladled up from the punch bowl, found itself spilt,
intentionally, over a waiting female breast.
“Yes, you will be the property of others,” Maria told Kate.
“They will regulate when you pee and when you eat, when you sleep and
when you must be made to feel pleasure, or pain. You must not think of
yourself as alive anymore, except sexually. Concentrate on your
appetites. Put your mind away for a week. You are your nipples. You
are your cunny and yes, you are your asshole.” Maria giggled as Kate
jumped again at the intrusiveness of the finger in her hiney. “Does it
bother you that it’s a woman who is in your ass right now?” Maria asked
Kate. “Put aside your conventional morays. She wants to see what such
a young tight bottomhole feels like before its reamed by all the men.
Although, surely, she could feel her own, in my opinion, and she’d find
it not so different.” Maria looked back at her companion in crime and
smiled. She had white, flashing, perfect teeth. And lipstick chosen so
it wouldn’t smear. “But your are lucky she is willing to play in you a
little. She has small fingers and they can’t hurt you. She’ll make you
a little bit ready for the men. You can see how big they are!” Maria
laughed again, and Kate wondered how many other girls she’d spoken to
this way. It was, after all, a college town. Did girls come here every
year, brought by their professors or by some man in the community? Was
there an annual harvest of young willing flesh? Was she merely the
latest in a long line of heroines, made to whimper and weep a little,
made to spread and open and offer herself? Kate did not know. But the
finger in her bottom, despite being that of a woman, burrowed as eagerly
as any man’s. How strange to be parted and delved into by a woman!
Kate could feel her warm breath caressing her back, she could imagine
her bosoms, as large as her own, wobbling on her chest as she worked her
way into Kate’s ass. And Maria, smiling softly, now raised her crop and
kissed Kate and brought it down smartly across her belly.
“Oh!” Kate gurgled within her indrawing gag. She tried to
press her tongue forward, to respond verbally to the sting which struck
her flat tummy, but the gag kept her wordless, except for a little
scream. Maria hit her again, this time on her thighs. In each place
now, on her belly and her legs, Kate felt a burning sting, different
from the too-hot warmth in her cunny, but somehow slowly merging with
it.
The guests, meanwhile, were growing ever more randy. Still
with one eye on Kate, they fondled each other’s loins freely now. It
made no difference whether the partner was a woman or a man. Two women
might pass, hurrying ever more quickly to fetch punch to dip penises in
or spill over breasts, only to pause and kiss each other, and then,
parting a little, eyeing each other with mischievous eyes, they might
pet each other’s pussies. One girl might jerk as the other proved
unexpectedly shameless in touching her slit. A finger, permitted only
to touch, would jab instead, then swirl softly and jab again. The
molested girl would offer up a little cry and try to retailiate. Her
own softly petting hand would form a little finger-spear and fuck within
the other’s cunt. Then, realizing they’d gone too far, and their lovers
(who were not their lovers but their new lovers only for this evening),
were still without them, the girls would part. As quickly as they’d met
they’d separate. One girl might go and prepare another cracker, perhaps
two, to put over and under and man’s penis and so make him into a
sandwich, while the other girl, moving away, might go fill up a glass of
punch to bathe the cock of her new lover’s penis in. All was enthusiasm
now, quick footsteps replacing languid, coy ones. Giggles and laughter
replaced sly smiles and fetching glances. Tongues licked not at food
anymore but at food put on breasts, on into bottoms. Men’s testicals
became topping, bulging atop a mustard smeared cracker as one female, or
perhaps two, nibbled at both the cracker and what it supported.
Crowning all, the penis of each man found itself wedged along its shaft
between two cracker halves. Girls bit at the crackers and into the
pestle of meat between. They marveled at how small the crackers looked
in comparison to the big round boner of meat which protruded both fore
and aft from their culinary creations. All was fun and laughter,
licking, probing tongues and flashing eyes and soft groans as sexual
parts came under attack.
Kate gazed at it all, wishing she could be a part of it and yet
also glad she was not, for, having only fucked a few boys in her life,
she still fancied herself as modest. This was an orgy! This was
something she had never even witnessed before, not even on film (for she
had absolutely no interest in those sorts of pictures). This was a
feast of flesh. Even as the partiers played with each other Kate could
see their anxiousness, which, indeed, she felt herself, for every touch
and tonguing awoke new unsatisfied desires. Petting fingers assauged
little and awoke more. You could see it in the men’s faces, delighted
at the females, yet working hard to restrain themselves as the females,
with childlike glee, made free with their organs. And you could see it
in the girls too, for their hips wiggled exceedingly, even as they
rushed around doing sinful things to each other. Each joke, each little
prank, brought new flights of desire. And all around, trampled
underfoot on the floor, lay their clothing. Bras and panties looked
like fallen birds now, stained by drips of mustard and splashed by spilt
punch, or lying quietly under a lamp table, forgotten in the melee.
Kate wondered how anyone would dress and go home, if they all ruined
their clothes.
One female, a brunette with shoulder-length hair whom Kate
found very beautiful, got up on a chair. Instead of sitting in it as
she might have in school or at work, she knelt in it, facing into the
back of it, and she leaned forward and explicitly showed off her bare
bottom. The crowd loved it. They applauded briefly, pausing in their
own games to admire her brashness and her beauty.
A blonde, parting from her own male lover because they both
found the showoff brunette so irresistible, walked up to the girl in the
chair and held her close and kissed her. Quite freely, as if it were
nothing to go exploring in such a place, she let her hand rove over the
brunette’s plump bottom and poke inquiringly between her cheeks. The
brunette laughed. In her nudity she had no protection from such an
intrusion nor, apparently, did she want it.
Meanwhile another woman, inspired by the sight of the first two
coupling, sat down on a hassock in front of the chair. She was as bare
as the first and she leaned backward until her head rested on the
chair. Naturally, the brunette felt the woman’s hot breath caress her
pussy as the woman lay face up on the chair seat. The brunette, a
finger already in her asshole, wriggled her bottom as best she could and
accepted two invading tongues at once, one from the blonde who stood
holding her and one from the new woman lying between her legs. The
woman lying on the seat grabbed the brunette’s slim legs and held them
so she could not escape. She was impaled now, a finger in her bottom
and one in her mouth and another delving into her pussy.
The man, meantime, who’d once been coupling with the blonde but
now watched as she kissed the brunette in the chair, grabbed a bottle of
mustard. He strode around the three girls and squirted mustard on them
from the bottle. At first they flinched, stopping their naughty games
to see what it was that had struck them. One girl begged him not to
shoot mustard into her hair. The man, oblivious, but eyeing the girls
and wanting to love every quivering, shuddering inch of their bodies,
shot his mustard into every small indrawn place that suited his fancy.
The crack in the bottomcheeks, the curved soft underside of the ass, the
cunny, so sweetly offered between parted thighs. The girls opened
themselves for each other and the man took advantage of it. He spewmed
forth his mustard, making the girls yelp as, still busy with each other,
they felt mustard invade their private places.
The other guests took a moment to admire this spectacle and
then fell back into their own games. Manicured fingers, usually
spending most days in proper office typing, now stroked long male
penises, getting all sticky as each girl encouraged her man to shoot and
yet, as he well knew, to restrain himself. The men, so hard and long
and with such demanding erections, nonetheless seemed willing to permit
their female lovers (their new lovers for this night!) to play with them
and coax them. Penises were washed in cups of punch, only the head
actually fitting into the cup but being bathed completely all the same,
with tongues and gentle kisses, and softly stroking fingers. Testicles
were dipped, one nut at a time, into steadily-held glasses. Fond
fingers urged the men to spill and not to spill, both at once, sucking
and prodding and prying and groping.
When the girls were not entertaining the men, challenging them
to stay hard despite all the attention they lavished on them, the girls
entertained each other. The men were treated to a visual feast as the
girls bathed each other’s stiff, pokey nipples and knelt and licked each
other’s cunts. A girl who’d graduated with honors from college might
kneel and push her tongue into the cunny of a woman who spent her days
sitting on the city council. All were professional women, Kate
realized, freed at last from the constraints of their jobs and
families. A woman who had two children doing homework at home might
spread her legs so that a nubile newly-married female could invade her
bottomhole with her tongue. None knew the others, Kate realized, except
through Maria. This was their first night together and, most probably,
their last. They’d exchanged first names only; tomorrow they would be
back in their homes or at work, guilt-free, not knowing who exactly it
was who tongued their asshole last night or made them stand still while
spilt punch was licked from their nipples.
The sense of moral abandonment created an urgency of its own.
Like Kate, each had visited a doctor last week, who did a quick exam and
a blood test. In Kate’s case, her lover had told her simply that it was
needed in case they married. But the others, more knowing, surely, had
gone for the express purpose of qualifying to be here tonight. Now,
with everyone stripped-bare and with their genitals free for the taking,
a sense of wonderment was replaced by crass lust. Females quit playing
with males and openly yanked on their dicks, seeing if they could make
the men shoot on the rug. Bosoms, kissed lightly before by females
loving females, were bitten now, boldly, leaving red hickeys behind.
Bottoms were slapped and kisses became prolonged. On the chair, the
brunette, trapped by her two female lovers, found herself being licked
to death by the woman lying beneath her. Her other lover, meanwhile,
pulled her finger out of the brunette’s ass so that the mustard-toting
man could squirt his squeeze bottle up where the brunette needed least
to feel hot stinging mustard.
Kate too was a prisoner. Maria, growing impatient, lifted her
breasts from beneath with her stiff slim riding crop. Kate felt the
bulging cones of her breasts squeezed upward by the crop. Their weight
was heavy and full and they fell bulgingly down on either side of the
skinny crop.
“God, such lovely breasts!” Maria proclaimed. She struck them
from beneath with her crop and Kate broke into tears at the sting.
Maria’s breath was hot. She twisted her hips uncontrollably. She hit
Kate’s thighs again, leaving a red mark there.
There was no rhyme or reason anymore. The guests broke into
pairs and fell onto the floor or onto one of two waiting couches. Maria
did not stop them. They’d obeyed her by playing with each other first,
only coupling when their need finally overwhelmed them. The men took
command now. The brunette on the chair found herself with a man
kneeling behind her. He shoved her forward over the chair back and
introduced his penis into her butthole. On the couches, girls were
yanked into open-legged positions and their men, perhaps just the last
man to kiss them, mounted them and fucked them like stallions. Girls
quit teasing each other and fell to consoling each other as men fucked
them. Cries rose up from the guests as their bodies responded. Kate,
watching all, with Maria incensed by her own lust, suffered more blows
on her tummy and thighs. Behind her the woman, so entranced with her
asshole, fetched a cucumber from the table and began jamming it up her
ass. Kate screamed. The cucumber was big and fat but its end was small
enough to let it be poked quite deeply into Kate’s sphincter. It felt
like a big dirigible going up her ass, and Kate wanted no part of it.
“No! Let me!” Maria said to the woman. “I can’t stand to
watch anymore. Bend her over and hold her for me.” Maria, once a calm
island of reserve, got enthusiastically behind Kate and, with the
anonymous woman’s help, bent Kate double. Kate found herself staring at
her toes and offering her ass like a bitch in heat. Her bosoms hung in
wobbly offering beneath her. Already stuffed with the end of the
cucumber, Kate felt like the human base for an Iranian flag. Gaspingly
showed off her violation, wriggling her bottom, attempting to expel the
cucumber but finding it too deep already to get out. Her tears welled
in her cheeks and dropped in big wet drops to the carpet. She cried
openly. She prayed for relief.
Maria, meanwhile, was waggling her hips just as much as Kate,
but for an entirely different reason. She was eager to fuck Kate with
her cunt. She got some vaseline from a drawer, the same drawer that had
held the riding crop, and she applied it with her fingers to the
cucumber. She laughed at Kate’s fearful mewings as she smeared on the
goo.
“You’ll be my first fuck of the night! And how uniquely we’ll
do it,” Maria told Kate. “Get ready to have something very large shoved
up your ass. You’ll wish you had Lisa’s finger back, once I start in on
you.”
Well, Kate consoled herself, she knew the name now of the woman
who’d got the end of the cucumber up her. She felt it withdrawn, almost
to the tip, so that it could be thoroughly greased. The tip was left
inside, moistened by Kate’s own excited bottom juices, so that Maria
wouldn’t have to get it past her sphincter again.
“Now, here goes!” Maria said when she had prepared the
cucumber. She shoved her hips forward and bent her knees. She
introduced the back end of the cucumber into her own cunt. “Yes! It’s
so huge!” Maria exclaimed. She shoved more of it up her twat and then,
finding a happy medium where she was stuffed full but Kate’s gasping ass
still resisted so tightly, barely violated at all, she began to shove
the part of the cucumber that stuck penis-like out of her cunt right up
Kate’s ass!
Kate bucked and lurched and tried to get away. But, bent
double, with Lisa holding her down very firmly and pinching her neck and
her ears to make her stay, Kate found herself trapped. She held her
legs stiffly and tight and straight and tried to clip them together.
But Maria slapped her bottom and yanked her thighs open. She was just
like a man, Maria, lusty and hard and pressing in with each
opportunity. Kate had never permitted herself to be taken in behind
before. The feeling was awful! The cucumber was big and Maria told her
it had been organically grown. It made no difference to Kate, but Maria
whispered with passionate cries that organically grown cucumbers were
much harder than store bought ones, because they were plucked from the
field and could be got into the house the same day, instead of being
trucked and transported and permitted to age.
Kate balked at the hugeness of the cucumber that was being
driven into her. Maria would draw back when she met resistance and then
lunge forward, shoving the cucumber farther up Kate. The lunges were
small at first, almost encouraging, rather than demanding, but as
Maria’s passion grew (for she was quite stuffed herself) she became more
insensate to Kate’s needs and more possessed with her own. Maria played
with her clitty. She lifted and kissed her own breasts. They were big
breasts, and she could draw her nipples right up to her mouth and nurse
herself on them.
Kate, meanwhile, proving obedient in her posture, found Lisa
gathering her breasts. The young woman lifted them and Kate wished to
stand when she did so but she found her bottom slapped by Maria when she
tried. Lisa cupped Kate’s teats and brushed her fingertips over them.
Then she pinched them, making Kate howl. Lisa fell to her knees as
Maria worked her cucumber up Kate’s ass and this young woman, with
breasts of her own, began suckling on Kate’s breasts as if they were cow
udders, and she a young hungry calf.
Kate swooned. She could not help herself. The cucumber was
the biggest thing she’d ever imagined. Lisa, meanwhile, seemed the
finest baby, suckling Kate like she’d never thought possible. A finger
(whose Kate was too deep into passion to know) found Kate’s button. It
massaged her and brought her to orgasm. Meanwhile, the implacable
cucumber continued to rend its way into her guts. Her breasts were
tugged on and bitten and sucked hard. Kate felt Maria, who now had the
cucumber deep into her, holding her legs, and she was grateful for else
she’d have fallen flat on the carpet.
In and out the cucumber went, deep and demanding. Kate felt
Lisa hungrily consuming the tips of her breasts. A finger probed within
Kate’s cunt and found it very moist. It jabbed within her lustily, and
it had a sharp nail, letting Kate guess that it either belonged to Maria
or Lisa. For a time, it seemed, two separate fingers were inside Kate’s
cunt, belonging to two different people, and Kate seemed to float in a
punished, passionate land, where only her nipples and her bottom
mattered, and her teeny clit, and her violated cunt. The gag kept her
quiet. Her sobs went unnoticed or even unheard. Above her Kate heard
soft sighs and somewhere, above that, cries from above as her boyfriend
continued to slowly punish another man’s wife.
All was wetness and crying and little spending shiverings as
Kate was thrown into a choppy sea of bliss. There was pain here, but it
merged with the fullness of the pleasure. She lost herself somewhere,
adrift in the sea, and when later she felt herself peeing she did not
even waken to see who it was who shouted beneath her at the impromtu
shower. The voice sounded female, and Kate laughed. Let her suffer.
Let Kate suffer. Let them all suffer together, if there was some
pleasure in it.
And the pleasure opened within Kate like a flower, and
eventually, despite the biting mouth at her nipples and the hugely
burrowing cucumber up her ass, Kate was consumed by the flower and
relished it.
Kate found herself lying on the carpet. It was a soft,
peach-colored carpet, and it smelled new, although now she could sense
other scents mingled into it, of bodily juices newly released. Kate
fluttered her eyelashes open and found she could speak. She moved her
jaw and there was no gag there anymore, just a longing thirst.
Kate sat up. She found her hands were free and she relished
her ability to move them. She brought her wrists round in front of her
and she rubbed them. As she did, she gasped, for her tummy hurt and it
had bright red lines across it, not actual welts, but deep lines that
cut into her and made her aware of her tummy, and all it contained. Her
womb especially, which seemed hungry and yet somehow full, at least for
the moment.
Kate felt her thighs burning and reached down and, thinking to
touch them, touched her pussy instead. It had been finger fucked and
she played with herself a little, pleasing herself in a way that had not
yet been done, or, if done, finished.
“Ah, how sweet she looks, and she still wants it,” a soft
female voice remarked.
Kate, still rubbing herself, but slowing a little, lest she
embarrass herself, looked up. She found herself looking into the eyes
of someone whom, after a moment, she realized was named Maria. And she
remembered Maria’s cucumber. Kate arched her back and lifted her bottom
a little bit off the floor and reached back to feel her hiney. It felt
like a huge hole had been driven into it. Yet now it was freed of
whatever had fucked it and Kate, sighing a little, felt her ass close
tentatively up again, and she was glad that she hadn’t been injured.
Kate ignored Maria and looked around the room. Everywhere she
saw men and women hastily getting dressed again. They seemed to have
little interest in each other now. In fact, their loins spent or their
senses depleated, they seemed eager to depart from one another to save
some shred of their modesty. Lovers returned to the lovers who’d
brought them and they made the best of their ruined clothing, smoothing
it out and bringing water from the kitchen to get the stains out. Women
who’d once had lovely hairdos and perfect makeup now looked as if they’d
been in a wrestling match. Their bodies, too, looked exhausted, still
sleekly beautiful but tired from too much partying. Kate watched them,
and as she did she put her hand to her cunny again and lightly rubbed
it. The men were beautiful in or out of their clothing. Kate sat on
the rug admiring them, wincing when she tensed her bottom but otherwise
quite completely happy, with Maria standing guard-like over her, letting
her know she, at least, was not about to dress back up and depart.
The guests left. Maria, who might have shown them to the door,
stood watching Kate instead, watching her as she watched them leave.
When all of them were gone, all except Lisa, who walked each of the
guests to the door and bid them goodbye, Maria took Kate’s arm and made
her stand up.
Maria was dressed in her sparkling evening gown again, but her
hair was wrecked. Lisa, after seeing the guests to the door, had
slipped back into jeans and a matching jacket. Kate’s lover, dressed
back in his suit, which looked immacualate, for he skipped the orgy,
came downstairs. He gazed with passionate eyes at Kate as he adjusted
his tie.
“You have had a pleasant practise with the whip?” Maria asked
Kate’s lover.
“Yes. She is upstairs recuperating. She did not want to go
home with her husband,” Mark said.
“Perhaps she will call him later,” Maria replied. Standing
among them, only Kate was nude. She shivered as Maria held her arm,
captive-like. She felt like a stolen Indian princess being presented by
Maria to a white lover.
“I am going to bathe and feed you now, little Kate,” Maria, who
was a foot taller than the girl, told her. “And then we will take you
out back to the barn. You must still have your hiney whipped, and that
will be as good as anyplace, I suppose, out in the hay with the animals
all watching your training. Perhaps it will make them better behaved.
Come, darling, let’s soap up that white ass of yours and sponge away
those naughty hickeys Lisa bit into your breasts. What an opening night
you’ve had--and you still have at least six more to go!”
30
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